And of course my bad shoulder was already killing me from two hours of dog brushing, which feels about like stabbing myself with an ice pick through the left shoulder blade.
(No fears: it was only about a three foot fall, and I am sturdy. Just scraped up, no lasting damage.)
We eventually did get the hula hoop back with some duct tape and a weeding hook. Now I'm going to put some ice on my bruises and take a couple of naproxen.
Darn you, Discipline, that dictates that I cannot treat them internally with scotch.